


Fierce Fox, Precious Rabbit.

by CassiesPoeticNonsense



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannigram Prompt, M/M, Possessive Hannibal, Protective Hannibal, Sleepy Will, Will Graham Loves His Dogs, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8167208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassiesPoeticNonsense/pseuds/CassiesPoeticNonsense
Summary: “When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help.”The fox hears his scream, and is ready to save his most precious rabbit.Touch what does not belong to you, dears, and you will no longer have the means to touch. 
  This is 6 chapters of absolute Will/Hannibal love, based on a prompt from tumblr! I hope you enjoy.This is my first Hannigram Au/Prompt writing, so please be gentle.





	1. Protection

  _Does one protectively shush anyone who comes near their sleeping partner?_

 

-

 

A soothing voice echoes throughout the room, affectionately caressing the ears of one who listens oh so intently.. Yet at the same time, he is lost within the realm of absolute nothingness. Heavy lids begin to droop and cover the ever cautious blue that resides behind. Within those eyes is a world of exhaustion and empathy that are weary of observation. All this blue-eyed empath wishes to do is sleep, to give in to the lull of his red-eyed companion. Sapphire and maroon forever fighting for dominance, with one soon giving in and the other softening with utmost affection that can never quite be concealed for long behind that indifferent mask.

 

Will Graham rests his head back along the almost too comfortable chair, made of the finest leather. No doubt that Hannibal had it imported to decorate his immaculate office and in this moment, he does not find himself agitated by his ‘friend’s’ desire for only the most exquisite. All around, _his_ presence lingers, circling closer and closer yet Will does not mind, even as his eyes finally close.

 

Hannibal is a comforting presence, hands lingering behind his back to keep a hold on his elegant posture. His fingers twitch ever so slightly with the desire to touch Will, even if it is a most innocent desire, it comes with an internal battle. Soon a hand comes, never hesitant, as he is too proud for that.. But gentle as ever, for his dear sleeping Will deserves only that.

 

That same towering presence of the Psychiatrist shifts to stand by the side of his patient’s seat, the back of one knuckle skimming and relishing in the softness of Will’s cheek. Never shaven, always rough and ragged but oh so soft in texture. Will, drugged in his exhausted haze, does not mind the touch and instead the smallest hint of a smile graces his lips. He leans into the touch and within Hannibal’s maroon eyes lay something more than satisfaction; affection.

 

 _ **Dear Will**_ , it is right along Hannibal’s parting lips when suddenly the door opens. A polite (and quiet) opening he might add, but rude in its way of disturbance, interruption and overall, does no sane being knock anymore?

 

Franklyn.

 

Of course, this oaf of a man that Hannibal detests must be the one to interfere with this private moment. If looks could kill, or rather.. devour, Franklyn Froideveaux would have been a bitter tasting braised roast, for nothing would ever be able to staunch the taste of his sour fear.

 

The beast is clawing within, begging to be let out at the sheer rudeness of the man that would disturb his Will’s sleep. His hand is drawn from its place without notice from the pathetic lout of a man standing in his doorway. To hush him might be considered rude, but no doubt that oaf deserved it.. Yet instead came the stern glare as a warning and a finger to his lips, meaning for him to be silent. No doubt he has already seen the sleeping agent in one of his chairs. Ah, the jealous stare from an unworthy admirer.

" ** _Franklyn, if you will.”_** His hand is waved in a grand gesture, acting as a beckon to shoo him out of the room and his voice is nothing but the softest of whispers laced with steel.His persistent annoyance for this man does not break his infallible control, for never would he want to appear rude in front of Will.. It would be an insult to his manners and beliefs, even if the sleeping agent could not observe it. If Will is awakened, there will be hell to pay.

 

Or rather, a stomach to feed.

 

Sweetest Will notices the loss of that soothing aura, his cheek nuzzling into the smooth leather which cradles his head.  _ **“Hannibal..”**_   It is nothing but a longing whisper, peering through the throes of a restless sleep.


	2. Hidden

 

_Does one come home to find the other sleeping on the floor under a table or curled in a corner?_

 

  _-_

 

Patience was a virtue, especially in the case of Hannibal Lecter who was at his wits end. Rudeness was an inelegance cursed upon the lesser beings which seemed to have a knack for flocking about him. Wanting to have a taste for even a hint of his power, hoping it would wear off on their unfortunate souls. Yet rudeness was not the only thing that was unforgivable, no.. It was the sheer idiocy of some of his patients. To put it mildly, Hannibal had a rough day at the office and the thing he longed for most was the taste of sweet aged wine and the comfort of his lovely Will, who should be waiting for him at home.

 

He enters the house, greeted with  soft whimpers from the pack, or as he likes to call them.. _The mutts_ , but with an exaggerated sigh laced with a tiny bit of affection. They have grown on him, to an extent. Will had been quite adamant about bringing all the dogs. It was a condition for them living together and with a little persuasion, Hannibal had given in. Really, he could never deny his lover anything, it was impossible to do so when those blue eyes gave him what he dubbed _"the puppy pout.’_ Sigh.

 

There came the question as to why their hoard of furry children, which were proceeding to coat his carpet in hair, were still not in the backyard. _Where was Will?_

 

His answer comes in the form of whiskey bottles, and not even the expensive kind that he had so nicely provided his lover with. It is that same cheap stench that leads him to find his most treasured Will, curled up in a corner of his home office. _**“William.”**_ He sighs, but there is no real ire there, as the man is presperating _and_ shaking, tormented by his feverish dreams.. All while coating that red sweater he loves so much in less than deserving alcohol and sweat. Winston comes with a bowed head, whining and worried over his master and there is no response as he nudges Will’s hand, hoping for a pat on the head or a scritch behind his ears. The poor thing, ever so distressed, seeks comfort from Hannibal and nudges his side against the elder man who appears even more tired than before.

 

There is no time to brush away the dog hair now stuck to his immaculate clothing. Instead, he shreds his outer coat and places it over the shivering form of Will before sliding one arm beneath his beloved’s back and the other beneath his knees. Hannibal lifts the waif on a man into his arms, inhaling his musk before wrinkling his nose at the telltale fever. Nightmares and alcohol induced stupors. His poor Will.

 

Ever the Doctor, the graying cannibal carries the younger man up towards their bedroom, all the while holding him tight to let his warmth be absorbed into the his love’s shivering form. Will leans closer, arms wrapping around his neck and seeking to nuzzle against his shoulder. Still asleep, but relaxing and being comforted by the presence that soon invades his dreams. In the form of a fierce Wendigo cradling and sheltering his mate from the roaring flames that seek to consume him whole. To seer his insides until nothing is left but a burning husk ready to be shredded to pieces by the murderers he’s killed, along with all those that live within the gruesome corners of an over-imaginative mind.

 

Hannibal lays Will down, stripping him of both sweater and his suit-jacket, only to find that dearest Will has decided that wearing the proper attire is not for him. Nude little thing he is, yet his lover cannot bring himself to be more than professional in the face of illness. He is worried, but this has happened before.. _His_ mind is tearing him apart, bit by bit but Hannibal is the outer force that attempts to keep it from controlling Will completely. No, that is his job.

 

_**His**_ William Graham.

 

When his darling agent/professor awakes, it is to the sight of a very disheveled doctor. Yet what leads him to open his eyes fully is the sight of the Wendigo, black skinned with proud antlers veering towards him with the downward tilt of the monster’s sleeping head. His hands are curled with massive black claws that have reached out, one palm upwards as if seeking his own. Will is not afraid to seek out his touch, his protector and the form of Hannibal meshes with the monster’s own, all caring red eyes coming into view ** _. “Will.”_** A smile forces the vision of a beast back into human form. **_“I was worried.”_**

 

**_“Hannibal. I’m fine. You always.. take great care of me.”_** Of course he has, the worrier that he is. Even the slightest cut concerns his overprotective and possessive partner but Will can’t help but feel affection swell within his chest at the sight of a tired Hannibal looming over him, so concerned. A kiss is the sweet reassurance, tasting of cooling water and the remains of what he thinks might have been aspirin. Always so loving, despite his intimidating eyes and the aura around him.

 

Their love is a tangible connection between them, reforged with the connection of hands and soft kisses.. Along with the soft insistence from Hannibal.

 

**_“Rest.”_ **

 

Will, for once, obliges but only when his aging lover agrees to wear that red sweater again.. _His favorite!_ And perhaps promises a bit of cuddling as well, and Hannibal _**(as always)**_ obliges.    


End file.
